Part Three
Frodo
Frodo walked out of the forest, looking over his shoulder at Merry, still in the tree, and at Pippin, just taking off his shorts. He smiled to himself, remembering the fun he had in his tweens and even before that. Before he even met Sam.
The name struck a chord in Frodo's heart as he walked back into the village of Bywater. He said his 'hello's, gave hugs and kisses to his aunts and cousins, and eventually, after a few mugs of ale, said his goodbyes. He rode his pony home, and arrived in Hobbiton just as the sun set in the blood red sky. A sense of foreboding that lie ever in Frodo's heart churned. He put his pony up, walking up the familiar path to the familiar round, green door at Bag End. He found a note in the parlor, it was from Bilbo explaining that he would be staying in the town of Bree, across the Brandywine, with his friend, Gandalf. Frodo sighed, and set to making himself some supper.
He was surprised when he heard a knock at the door, and answered it, finding a disheveled and slightly ill Sam on his doorstep. He invited his friend in, offering him some tea and small cakes he'd had left from some birthday party a few days previous. Sam thanked him solemnly, eyes bloodshot and face pale. He looked like he would either keel over at any moment, or start heaving and vomit on the floor. Either way, Frodo wanted to know what was wrong with his dear friend.
"Sam?" Frodo asked. Sam looked at his slighter friend, sadness in his eyes. "Sam, tell me what's wrong. You haven't said a thing for almost twenty minutes." Frodo's voice was filled with worry and love, and Sam's eyes looked down at the floor, looking slightly embarrassed.
"Well, Mr. Frodo," he began in a quiet voice, still looking at the floor. Frodo reached out a hand, placing it on Sam's shoulder, causing him to look up. "It's just that... All these years I' been courtin' Rosy, and, now she's gone and..." Sam's voice broke as tears fell down his dirty cheeks. This was the first time Frodo noticed how dirty he was. And he smelled as if he hadn't washed in a week. "And now she's gone and... Ah, Frodo, she'll be as round as a barrel in a few months, and I'll tell you, 'twasn't me who got her into that position, if you know what I mean. Though I wash it was." Frodo understood. He felt the pain Sam was going through. Frodo stood, giving Sam's shoulder a reassuring squeeze. Frodo busied himself, stoking the fire and putting on a kettle to boil. He looked over at Sam, looking suddenly helpless, and his heart pounded in his chest.
He needed to tell Sam how he felt, but first, he needed to draw his pathetic friend a bath. He walked into the washroom, grabbing the pail to get fresh water from the spigot outside. He stepped out onto the porch, the chill night air filling his lungs as he filled the bucket with cold spring water. He did this three times, enough to get the tub half full. He checked the water, still not boiling, and sat back down next to a still tearful Sam. He knew exactly how the poor lad felt. His heart, no doubt, was being ripped in two. That's how he himself had felt when Sam told him they should stop 'fooling around'. Water on a ducks back, at least for Sam. The very next day, or it seemed to Frodo, the boy had begun his courting of Rosy. Oh, Frodo knew heartbreak. He'd loved Sam, still did, but the way Sam left him, just left him cold turkey, made him feel used.
Frodo checked the steaming pot, which was almost boiling. He grabbed a towel, then, taking the handle in his cloth-covered hand, carried it into the washroom. He checked the water temperature. It was a little hot, like Frodo liked it, but a little too much so for his friend, who liked warm baths. Frodo took some of the water in his pail and brought in another of cold water. Perfect, Frodo thought as he walked into the other room, tapping the dozing Sam on the shoulder. Sam stood and followed him, head hung low, back slouching in his depressed state.
Frodo helped his friend undress, nothing he hadn't seen before, but seeing Sam's body again, still lithe enough to see his muscles working under his skin, made him remember why he loved Sam. He helped his friend into the bath, and poured in a teaspoon of orange blossom oil, Sam's favorite. Frodo then proceeded to wash his friend's hair, each curly tendril soaped up and scrubbed clean of any dirt. He rinsed Sam's hair, noticing Sam was relaxing a bit. He then washed Sam's face with a soft cheese cloth, careful not to get any soap in his friend's eyes. He felt like touching Sam, intimately and in places he shouldn't, but stopped himself several times from doing just so. He finally just sat on the stool next to the bath tub, watching his friend.
"You know, Sam," Frodo began. "Maybe, just maybe, she's not the one for you." He said quietly, looking at Sam's now clean face. Sam's eyes met Frodo's in an intense stare, a small flash of anger crossing Sam's face, then a calming realization.
"You know what, Mr. Frodo?" Frodo nodded for his whispering friend to continue. "I think you're right. An', maybe I should listen to you more often. You know me up and down, Mr. Frodo. You know what I need before I even do, what I want and what I don't. I think you're right, though. Lately she's been getting, oh, I don't know...It just seems like she's been trying to stay away from me. And then she goes and sleeps with that... that traveler from over near Midgewater!" Sam's anger was back, but now directed at Rosy. Frodo shushed his friend, knowing if he didn't he would rant about Rosy for the rest of the night.
Frodo got up, walking into the kitchen to get two glasses, and to the pantry to get some Ale. 'Just what he needs,' Frodo thought. Sam thanked him for the ale, and after three glasses, he seemed even more relaxed than before. Frodo felt the water, it was cooling fast. "I think it's about time we got you out of there, Sam." He said, more to himself than Sam. Sam stood, water dripping off his body into the tub below as Frodo handed him a towel, but not before admiring Sam's body, muscular from gardening, yet he had that look, the one Frodo'd loved. He was hugable, and snuggle-able. Frodo led Sam to one of the guest rooms, and left him sitting on the bed as he went to get some spare night clothes.
When Frodo came back in, Sam looked at him in a near-drunk gaze. Frodo handed him the clothes, and helped him get dressed. Frodo's hands burned to touch Sam's pale skin, and a few 'accidental' and clumsy caresses had Frodo hot and bothered. He lay Sam down in bed, pulling the covers over his friend's body as he went to leave the room. Sam's hand reached out, grabbing Frodo's wrist. Frodo looked down at his friend.
"Mr. Frodo, I was just wonderin', um..." Sam's voice was slightly huskier than earlier as he looked into Frodo's eyes. "Do you think... Would you like to..." His voice went down to a whisper. "Could you lie in bed with me, you know, like old times?" Sam's eyes were filled with a pleading lust. Frodo almost said no right off because of his friend's state, but reconsidered. 'This could be your only chance to show him how much you care... No regrets, no worries, right?' He told himself. He left Sam's side, telling him he'd think about it. Sam looked upset, but when Frodo returned, carrying a small jar, his eyes lit up.
"In that case, why don't we move to my room?" Frodo asked, worrying that the small guest bed would be too small for them both. Sam nearly flew out of the bed into Frodo's arms, planting kisses on his face and lips. Frodo laughed out loud at this, and pushed Sam back, telling him to calm down. Once they were in Frodo's room, the lamp lit, Sam was kissing his friend again hard on the mouth. Frodo moaned loudly, and Sam seemed to take that as a signal to let his tongue slip out, grazing Frodo's lips. Frodo let him enter his mouth, massaging his warm tongue with his own, his sweet taste filling his senses.
Sam was now ripping at Frodo's clothing, as was Frodo Sam's. The lust that had been building up in Frodo since his younger days, since he last had Sam, was beginning show in Frodo's eyes. Sam saw this and looked at his friend, his hands stopped moving. An understanding passed between them, silent as night, but still fully understood. Need shone in both of their eyes by the candlelight. Need for each other. It was an underlying thought going through both of their minds as Sam's hands resumed tearing at Frodo's clothing, trying in vain to get his hands on the soft pale skin the cotton clothing hid. Now, more than ever, Sam was regretting leaving Frodo for Rosy. He felt the need to make up for it as he fumbled with Frodo's buttons.
Frodo went wild, tearing at Sam's waistcoat, ripping at his pants buttons. It was only moments until both were stark naked in the warmly lit room, staring at each other as they only had many years before. Frodo leaned into Sam's larger form, taking him in a warm hug whilst kissing his warm, soft shoulder and neck. A loving embrace that both of them needed, but just for a moment, then things went back to their hectic, crazy state.
Hands caressed skin, nails dragging lightly as sighs and moans of pleasure filled the room. Sam's hands were on Frodo's rear when their mouths met, tongues clashing as Frodo thrust his hips forward into Sam. Their need grew with each thrust until Sam picked Frodo up, setting him on the bed before straddling him, kissing his chest, nibbling on sensitive nipples.
Frodo Thrust his hips upwards, his erect cock rubbing against Sam's as they kissed. Frodo thrust upwards again, meeting Sam's thrust in midair. They needed more than just that, and they both knew it. Frodo reached for the small jar he'd brought in with them, and opened it, the smell of orange blossom essence filling the air. Frodo poured some onto his opened hands, and set the jar aside, reaching for Sam's thick, throbbing member. Sam moaned as Frodo rubbed the oil over his sensitive flesh, the other man thrusting up into the warm hands of Frodo's. Frodo made sure Sam had enough lubrication, then reached down to his own entrance, rubbing more oil there.
Sam seemed to get the idea, and positioned himself between Frodo's legs, kissing his friend's nipples and chest, licking the sensitive nubs of flesh before biting and teasing them. Sam took Frodo's legs, putting them over his shoulders for better access, and thrust into Frodo so fast, Frodo screamed with pleasure. Sam bucked into his friend with such a fervent lust that he almost forgot to breath. Pleasure raced through each of their veins, and when Sam hit Frodo's sweet spot, and Frodo clenched his muscles around Sam's throbbing shaft, a moment of shared ecstasy lingered with each thrust thereafter. This went on for several intense moments until Frodo noticed an uncomfortable pang in his leg, causing him to stop Sam. Frodo pushed his friend backwards, rolling over onto his stomach as he got onto his hands and knees. Sam got the idea, and immediately mounted his friend again, this time reaching for Frodo's throbbing cock as he pounded into him, hitting his sweet spot several more times before..."Oooooohhhhhhhhhhhh SSAAAAAAAAMMMMMM!!!!!!!!!!!!" Frodo yelled as he clenched around Sam so tight, he thought he would faint from the pleasure. Frodo's cock twitched as long jets of white-hot seed shot out, and Sam thrust harder the next three times until, with a grunt and groan of pleasure, he came deep inside of his friend. Completion was theirs as they collapsed, Frodo rolling over so he could hold Sam as he once had, what seemed like ages past. They embraced, catching their gasping breath, and placing chaste kisses on the others' faces. It was a loving moment, as if they were a true couple, and even Frodo couldn't remember a time when they'd had that much pleasure from just one session. A half an hour passed, and neither hobbit had felt one ounce of drowsiness.
As they lay there, Sam in Frodo's arms, Sam's hand burried in Frodo's curly locks, Frodo smiled, remembering Merry and Pippin. He looked down into Sam's glowing eyes, and kissed the tip of his nose, still smirking. "Samwise, I love you." Frodo said in a whisper, his face serious. Sam seemed to think it over for a moment before looking back up at Frodo.
"I love you too. Im so sorry it took me so long to come back to you..." Sam said in a whisper, and trailed off. Frodo smiled again, taking Sam's moist lips in a kiss before they both fell into a deep, secure clumber.